


Alnilam and Alnitak

by Chifuyu



Category: Adam (2009), Charlie Countryman (2013)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Because Nigel, Blow Jobs, Explicit Language, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Nigel is smitten, Smut, Spacedogs, Spacedogs Appreciation Week, Swearing, a lot of it, a tiny bit of angst, hannigram AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-05-20 22:26:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6027643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chifuyu/pseuds/Chifuyu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's sitting on a park bench in the middle of the night, bleeding like a pig, with a cheese sandwich in hand, and everything the strange boy next to him cares about are the stars in the sky and the light of the moon.</p><p>All things considered, Nigel's day could've been worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Romance is a cheese sandwich shared in a park at night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gio_hannigram](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gio_hannigram/gifts).



> This is my contribution for the Spacedogs Appreciation week on tumblr. I love these two immensely and couldn't pass up on the chance to write something for this special occasion. At the same time, this is for [Andy](https://twitter.com/Gio_Hannigram) who asked for a Spacedogs picnic. I have to apologize because there is absolutely no picnic to be had here, I still hope you like it though!
> 
> I want to thank my beta reader [Universally Speaking](https://twitter.com/Lorna_316), who, as usual, offered encouragement and editing skills.

That had been, without a doubt, the shittiest day of his life and that included the time he got shot in the head in Bucharest.

He was freezing his ass off, bleeding all over the place and, on top of that, had managed to get lost in a damn park. Who got lost in a park?

Life fucking sucked. It sucked big, fat dick and Nigel was utterly fed up with it. The thing with Gabi and that little wimp Charlie had very nearly cost him his life. What good was love if it left you with a bullet to the head and nobody to warm your bed at night?

If anybody had told Nigel that he'd miss fucking Bucharest a month ago he would've laughed and then socked them in the face. Now, he wasn't so sure anymore. Coming to the US had been a spontaneous and undoubtedly stupid thing to do, but it meant he'd be far far away from Bucharest, Gabi, and the little fuckhead Charlie Countryman. It seemed like a good idea back at the time.

Who would have thought that it was so much more difficult getting by in the States? Everybody here thought they were big shit - Nigel included - and while he had the skills to back his claim up, he had no reputation to speak of. It had been a rookie mistake, but respect had been something he took for granted, not as something he had to earn first. After all, he had plenty of it back at home.

Here in California things were different. To put it bluntly: he was a nobody. And nobody gave a fuck if he could make a grown man shit his pants with a simple glare in damn Romania.

Hell, he hadn't even meant anything by it when he told the asshole who wouldn't stop staring at him in the club to suck his dick or get lost. As it turned out, people in Flintridge were less forgiving when it came to dick-related insults and Nigel had promptly earned himself a punch in the face that sent him and the girl on his lap tumbling down on the seedy floor.

It came as no surprise when it all ended with him being kicked out of the club, blood from half a dozen people dripping from his knuckles and his nose clogged up with his own. The assholes kicking him out hadn't even had the decency to throw his leather jacket after him as well, which had left him with neither his cash nor his ID. A shame, he had really liked those forged papers.

Fuck, he hated the States. And he especially hated this fucking park with its fucking trees and fucking noisy raccoons that were, well...fucking.

Nigel shivered, pulling his arms around his own torso to keep himself warm. Whoever had said California was mild in winter was a damn liar. Things like that wouldn't have happened in Bucharest, he lamented as he barged through the dark.

He roamed about until he stumbled upon a park bench half obscured by shadows, half illuminated by a single street lamp with the lights flickering in steady intervals, attracting a multitude of buzzing critters. He dropped down on it with a pained groan and none of his usual grace. Fuck, they got him good.

"Are you here to watch the stars as well?"

Nigel almost fell off the bench.

"What the fuck?" he spluttered and turned with a force that made his spine crack.

There was a boy sitting next to him, tightly curled up in a blanket and with a scarf around his neck, pulled right up to his nose. He sat on the far end of the bench, careful not to let the light from the street lamp reach him. From what Nigel could tell he had brown, neatly combed hair and bright eyes looking at a point somewhere above Nigel's own.

"You shouldn't curse like that," the boy reprimanded, his nose scrunched up in displeasure.

Nigel would've exploded into another violent rant if he weren't so surprised.

"You're also bleeding. That isn't good," he added in afterthought, before returning his attention to the sandwich in his hands.

"No shit, Sherlock."

Nigel tried to sound scathing and failed miserably, not in small parts due to the blood in his nostrils that made him sound like fucking Dumbo with a cold.

The boy blinked, brows furrowing a little.

"My name is not Sherlock."

Nigel, in the middle of wiping blood off his nose and onto his shirt, turned to stare at him. Was this kid for real?

"Smartass," he huffed and immediately regretted it when the motion sent another fresh wave of pain surging through his skull.

"My name is Adam," the boy provided little helpfully as Nigel cursed under his breath, still trying his hardest to get the damn bleeding under control.

"Good for you, Adam. Now if you'd just let me bleed out in peace?"

Nigel didn't need to look to know that the boy who had introduced himself as Adam was fidgeting next to him, picking little crumbs off his cheese sandwich.

"Look kid, I know it's fucking weird to have a guy covered in blood sitting next to you on a park bench in the middle of the night, but you either stop staring or you’re gonna fucking help. You got a tissue?"

Adam blinked, his long lashes fluttering, and his eyes widened in realization. A breathy little sound escaped his mouth that made the short hair on Nigel's arm stand up.

"Oh," Adam gasped. "I have a tissue."

"Hand it over then," Nigel scoffed, fed up with the way Adam avoided looking at him with pointed insistence. He knew he wasn't exactly a sight for sore eyes, but this guy was overdoing it.

To Nigel's honest surprise, Adam did hand him a handkerchief made from cotton and with the initials A.R. stitched into one of the corners. Nigel felt almost sorry when he pressed it to his nose, dyeing the pristine fabric red.

"Thanks," he mumbled under his breath.

Adam nodded and turned away a moment later, his gaze following a trail of stars high above them.

For a while, Nigel was content just sitting there, blood seeping into the handkerchief as he watched Adam out of the corners of his eyes. A young man in his late twenties probably, though dressed as if he were forty with his heavy winter coat and the horrible grandpa sweater peaking out from underneath it, with thick brown hair and lashes so long they cast a small shadow underneath his eyes.

"So, you often sit in a park all by yourself, looking at the stars and eating sandwiches, or..?"

"Yes."

Fuck him sideways, the kid sure as hell knew how to make one feel awkward. If Nigel hadn't be so amused by Adam's brutal honesty then he would've given him a piece of his mind for being so damn rude.

"Why?" he tried once more. This time, Adam deigned to look at him, his attention shifting from the star-studded sky to Nigel.

His nose twitched and his jaw clenched with how tightly he pressed his teeth together and Nigel couldn't suppress the grin tugging at his mouth. Adam looked downright scandalized.

"It's winter," he said as if that explained it all. "You can see Orion, Taurus, Auriga, Perseus, Cassiopeia, Gemini, and Canis Major. These constellations are rich with stars and star clusters. In January and February there are numerous stars visible: Capella, Castor and Pollux, Procyon, Sirius, Rigel, Aldebaran, and Betelgeuse. Orion is the feature constellation this time of year in both hemispheres, and it makes a good base to find other constellations. It's easy to imagine the silhouette of a hunter. There, above the little line of three stars in the belt are two stars marking his shoulders. His left shoulder is the bright orange-red star Betelgeuse. Below his belt are two feet; the right foot is the bright blue star Rigel. Hanging off his belt are three fainter stars. This is the _Sword of Orion_. The middle star of this sword is actually not a star. It's a nebula, a patch of glowing hydrogen gas where new stars are forming. You can see it when you use the 100-inch telescope at the Mount Wilson Observatory. That's where I work."

The boy stopped all of the sudden, his enthusiastic speech stumbling to a halt, and he returned his gaze to the stars above.

"I'm sorry. I talk too much when I get excited about things."

Well, that had been educational if nothing else. Nigel shook his head, intrigued more than put off, his eyes never leaving Adam's flushed face.

"You're a strange little fellow, aren't you?" he asked.

"People always say that. I don't think I am," Adam mumbled into his scarf.

"Nothing wrong with it, darling. Most people are idiots."

"I'm not though," Adam said with an assurance that left Nigel barking with laughter.

"No, you're not. You're clever as fuck, right?"

Adam didn't answer, but his full lips curled into a faint smile, and after a moment of hesitation he took one of his sandwiches and held it out to Nigel.

"Would you like to have one of my sandwiches? It's cheese. I don't like anything else."

Nigel took it, if only because he was too surprised to refuse.

"Thanks?"

He took a bite, the taste of cheese and bread mixing with the blood in his mouth. It wasn't too bad, Nigel had eaten worse stuff in his life.

"Name's Nigel, by the way."

"You sound strange, Nigel. You have an accent."

"Could have something to do with me being from fucking Romania. Bucharest to be precise."

Adam's eyes lit up, visible even in the dark and he leaned over to Nigel, the fluorescent light spilling over his flushed face.

"Did you ever visit the Admiral Vasile Urseanu Astronomical Observatory?"

Nigel stared at Adam, mouth full. "The what?"

"The Admiral Vasile Urseanu Astronomical Observatory. It's the only public observatory in Bucharest. The Equatorial Zeiss telescope, installed in 1910, is the main instrument of this observatory and it is still fully functional. However, it's used only during special events and sometimes on Saturdays. I'd really like to see it."

"Never fucking heard of it before."

"Oh..." Adam turned away, his shoulders slumped forward in obvious disappointment.

"You want to visit one day?" Nigel asked and Adam nodded, a soft blush dusting his cheeks. "I'll take you then. Pay you back for the sandwich and all that."

Adam didn't answer, too caught up in watching the stars, but the blush deepened and spread over the bridge of his nose as Nigel leaned back to join him in his silent observation.

He left Nigel an hour later, shuffling his feet as he wished Nigel a good night, all prim and proper despite the ridiculous sight he made with his blanket pulled around his shoulders and the scarf muffling his words.

"I have to go now," he explained. "Usually, I am alone when I eat my sandwiches and watch the stars, but it was alright with you. You don't interrupt me when I get excited about things."

Nigel swallowed the last bit of his sandwich and offered Adam a cheeky grin. "Glad all the blood didn't put a damper on our blossoming relationship, kiddo."

"It was a little irritating," Adam admitted. "You should wash the blood out off your clothes as soon as you get home. Blood stains can be very difficult to remove, because the hemoglobin in the blood acts as a binder when it hits the air and binds with the fibers in your clothing."

"First a cheese sandwich and now household tips on how to get blood out of my clothes. Strangest fucking picnic I've ever had," Nigel laughed and Adam returned the gesture with a shy smile of his own before turning away. He didn't look back as he made his way through the park, Nigel's eyes on his retreating form until he was swallowed by darkness and Nigel was left alone with his thoughts and swelling nose.

What a strange kid.

It was already too late when Nigel remembered the bloody handkerchief in his hand. He looked at it, at the drops of blood forming an unknown constellation and he couldn't help but wonder if Adam would've recognized it. He took it home with him, for the lack of any better ideas, back to his shitty one room apartment where he threw himself onto the unmade bed, laughing underneath his breath as he drifted off to sleep with the constellation of Orion dancing bright behind his closed eyelids.


	2. As smooth as a Romanian drug lord

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nigel behaves like a lovestruck teenager - a chain smoking, constantly swearing teenager. Adam is still oblivious.

Nigel had nearly forgotten the boy with the dark curls and bright eyes by the end of the week. He had been too busy fucking up a small drug trafficking ring, fully intending to make himself the head of the group, once the power structure within it was thoroughly shaken. All it took was an anonymously laid tip and some help from the local police forces to let it all crumble to dust, leaving the gang leaderless, terrified and all too happy to take the help and guidance Nigel so graciously offered. Child's play, really. America wasn't that different from Romania after all.

He only remembered Adam when he came home after a night of drunken celebration, a woman in his arms and his head buzzing with coke and alcohol. An admittedly horrible combination, but Nigel couldn't bring himself to care. He felt fucking great. Right up to the moment the woman - Sarah was it, quite the lovely thing with her dark hair and cheeky smile - pulled her mouth off his cock and made a grab for the handkerchief lying neatly folded on his nightstand.

"Don't touch that, darling," he said with gentle insistence.

She took it as a challenge - of course she did - and not as the soft warning it was. Nigel's hand shot out and his fingers curled around her delicate wrist tight enough to leave bruises.

"Don't fucking _touch_ that."

Her eyes widened in fear and she pulled back with a strength Nigel wouldn't have thought her capable of.

Afterwards, the mood was pretty much ruined and Nigel felt a pang of regret when the door to his apartment was slammed shut with a force that left the beer bottles on his bedside table rattling dangerously. Nigel doubted he'd ever see Sarah again. She wasn't one to take shit from any man, not even from him - which was precisely the reason Nigel had liked her so much.

His mattress creaked underneath the strain of his weight as he let himself fall back onto it, his lips pulled in between his teeth as he gnawed on the soft flesh in frustration. He had been unreasonable, he knew, but old habits died hard and his temper was as fiery as ever. No bullet to the head and no journey of self-discovery to the States could change that.

It had felt wrong to let her touch what was neither hers nor his, just to get a few cum stains off her pretty face. Bad enough that Nigel had dirtied it with his own blood before, no need to rub his other bodily fluids into it as well. Especially considering the fucking hassle he had with getting the stains out of it in the first place.

Nigel had to employ the help of Rozaliya Noel. The old lady lived in the flat underneath his, together with a bunch of cats that wouldn't stop hissing whenever they caught sight of him. She was a damn goddess, with her graying hair put up in a messy bun, and piercing black eyes that sized Nigel up after she had opened the door to her small apartment as if it was the gate to Valhalla itself, disapproval written all over her face. She had only let Nigel in after cussing him out for looking like a mess and for getting blood all over his clothes. Nigel had no choice to utter a single word before she snatched the handkerchief out of his hand, huffing and puffing as she inspected the damage Nigel had done.

He had been treated to tea and cake, the sticky confection overly sweet on his tongue, while Rozaliya was leaning over the kitchen sink and rubbing at the blood stains with furious determination. Two pieces of cake and a new scratch from one of her cats later, Rozaliya had presented Nigel with the handkerchief. It had been a little damp when he took it but pristine white, as if Nigel had never dirtied it with his blood.

She was a goddess indeed. Nigel had no fucking clue how she did it, but when he pressed the soft cotton to his nose and inhaled deeply it smelled of freshly cut grass and pinewood, all traces of blood gone.

He should give it back. He fully intended to, but when he returned to the park the following night, Adam was nowhere to be found. Nor was he there the next day, or the day after. The boy remained a shadow, as if he had been nothing but a conjuration of Nigel's sleep-deprived and overworked mind. If not for the very real handkerchief in his hands, he might have believed just that.

Luckily, Nigel was one stubborn motherfucker and not easily discouraged. After all, the kid had told him he worked at an observatory and while he couldn't for the life of him remember the name, it wasn't hard to figure out which, given that there was only one within a 20 miles radius.

He considered leaving the handkerchief at the reception, together with a simple note of apology - it would've been the most elegant solution - but Nigel was nothing if not entirely selfish. He wanted to meet the young man again, and he had always been terrible at denying himself anything.

In addition to being selfish he was also impatient, so Nigel went to pay Adam a visit the very next day, dressed up in jeans and the horrible shirt printed with little dachshunds that had always made Gabi laugh. Maybe it would have a similar effect on Adam.

Dachshund shirt or not, it came as no surprise when the lady behind the counter eyed him suspiciously over the thick rim of her glasses as he inquired about Adam. Nigel couldn't blame her.

"Mr.Raki," she said, emphasis on the first syllable. "- is currently giving a tour for the San Rafael Elementary School. It'll be over in approximately thirty minutes. Mr.Raki is always very punctual. You can wait in the lobby if you like."

Just Nigel's luck. That one time he tried to do the right thing and it was ruined by a bunch of school kids and an overly protective receptionist who clearly didn't want Nigel anywhere near Adam, if the way her eyes kept following him all the way to the seats standing at the far end of the room was any indication.

It was annoying - and rude - but Nigel had sworn to behave himself, so he settled for a scathing glare and a vicious snarl that revealed his sharp incisors instead. It did the trick and the woman turned back to whatever it was she had been doing before Nigel had walked up into the observatory.

He took a magazine from a pile on a small glass table next to him and started to flip through it in lieu of anything better to do while waiting for Adam. He regretted it in an instant. It was a specialized journal and the technical jargon did nothing to improve Nigel's already grumpy mood. Yet, his pride wouldn't allow him to take one of the more child-oriented magazines scattered between all the others.

Nigel struggled through an article titled _'Constrained Tension Control of a Tethered Space-Tug System with only Length Measurement'_   when he heard footsteps approaching. When he raised his head, Adam stood before him, his eyes bright behind glasses that looked as if he had snatched them off his grandfather's nightstand. He wasn't looking at Nigel, but at the magazine in his hands.

"Are you interested in tension control laws? The aim is to stabilize the motions of a tethered space-tug system during its deorbiting process by regulating the tension in the tether."

Yeah, as if. "Honestly?" Nigel asked, eyes sharp with amusement. "I was just trying to kill some time. I wanted to see you. Hell, do you even remember me?"

"I do. Your name is Nigel. You're from Romania. You were bleeding and interrupted me when I wanted to watch the stars."

He pushed up the too big glasses when they threatened to slip off his nose and Nigel laughed loud enough to earn himself a stern glare from the lady behind the counter.

"I did. Sorry about that, gorgeous. I'll make sure it never happens again."

"Good," Adam nodded, the teasing edge of Nigel's words completely lost on him.

Silence settled over them and Nigel twitched in his seat before he threw the magazine aside, mumbling a rough _'fuck it'_ under his breath. He pulled the ironed and neatly folded handkerchief from the breast pocket of his shirt and held it out for Adam.

"Your handkerchief."

Adam remained motionless.

"Yes, it is." He nodded, eying the piece of fabric with more interest than Nigel had ever seen him bestow upon him. "You washed your blood out of it. That was very considerate of you." A small pause. "Thank you."

"No problem, darling. Can't possibly give it back to you all bloody, now can I?"

Adam nodded once more, the same small smile playing around his mouth that Nigel had first seen during that night in the park, with the stars shining bright above them and his face sticky with his own blood.

"That sounds logical," Adam said, just shy of sounding pleased.

"Don't you want to take it back?" Nigel asked. It was getting hella awkward to stand here, with the scrutinizing glare of the receptionist drilling holes into his back.

Adam's gaze flickered from the handkerchief to Nigel's forehead.

"No."

"No?"

Nigel couldn't keep the note of indignation out of his voice, yet Adam remained oblivious to it. He shook his head softly, his brown curls bouncing with the motion.

"It's a gift," Adam said, a smile lightening up his face. He looked younger like this and Nigel felt the urge to protect pull at his heartstrings.

"Because you were nice to me," Adam was quick to elaborate. "Because you didn't mind me being weird."

"So you give me a handkerchief?" Nigel asked, grinning. This kid was surely something else.

Adam's smile didn't match his own. It was a little crooked and his upper lip wouldn't stop twitching, but his eyes were bright with joy and for the first time since they met, he was looking directly at Nigel.

"Yes, you seemed to like it."

Nigel broke into laughter and, this time, the lady at the reception desk actually shushed him from where she was sitting. Nigel didn't give a damn.

"Fuck kid, I do. I really do. You know what? I have a gift for you as well. Gimme your hand."

Adam did as he was told, not hesitating for a second and Nigel felt a wave of fondness wash over him. Kid was too good for this world and definitely too good for Nigel. He took the outstretched hand nonetheless, selfish asshole that he was, and scribbled down his number with a sharpie he carried in the back pocket of his pants. Adam giggled when the pen point brushed over his skin.

"It tickles," he observed.

"Sorry 'bout that. There you go, darling."

Adam lifted his hand to his face, eying Nigel's work with an intensity bordering on reverence.

"You gave me your phone number," he deduced.

Nigel had no idea if Adam was pleased, uninterested, or appalled. His expression betrayed nothing but intense concentration, evident in the crease between his brows and the way his pupils dilated.

"Sure did. Call me whenever you like."

Later, once he was back home with a cigarette between his fingers and the smoke a comforting burn in his lungs, he berated himself for how much of a stupid thing it was to give his phone number out to a virtual stranger. Not even the number of one of his burner phones, but his actual phone number.

Nigel was a fucking idiot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to thank everybody who commented for their kind words concerning this story, as well as everybody who gave kudos or endured my constant whining over at twitter.
> 
> Actually, I was contemplating deleting this story again as soon as I posted it, but you guys keep me going. Thank you.


	3. Scoring a date like a teenager

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nigel doesn't know if he got it right, but he's pretty sure Adam just called him to tell him he doesn't want to call him.

Adam didn't call him.

Nigel was torn between feeling relieved and being fucking pissed. Not at Adam, of course not, he wasn't that much of an asshole, but at himself. He was forty-two for fuck's sake, one would think he was more suave than scribbling his number onto somebody's palm. Apparently not and he could hardly blame Adam for not taking him up on his offer.

Once more, Adam surprised him by doing the least thing Nigel expected after two weeks of absolute silence: he called.

Nigel's phone went off at 4pm precisely. He had just settled down to catch up on some much needed sleep after over thirty hours without it - courtesy of his questionable lifestyle - and he was in absolutely no mood to deal with whatever asshole had the audacity to call him now of all times. One glance at the bright display told him that he didn't know the number. It wasn't one of his contacts, nobody from home either - it was no international call. So who the fuck was it? He grumbled and picked up, his voice sounding hoarse even to his own ears.

"What?!" he growled into the receiver, face half pressed into the mountain of pillows on his bed.

There was nothing but static silence and Nigel was close to throwing the phone into the farthest corner of his apartment when a shuddering breath stopped him halfway through the motion.

"Nigel?"

He recognized the voice instantly.

"Adam?" he asked, softer now that he knew who was on the other end of the line.

"Yes. You said I should call whenever I like. You left before I could tell you I don't like telephone calls."

There was another pause as Adam took a deep breath and Nigel waited. He was by no means a patient man but he had an excellent gut instinct, and that instinct told him to shut the hell up for once if he didn't want to risk fucking things up any further.

"Telephone calls are hard for me. Even harder than verbal conversation. Phone conversation relies heavily on prosody - that means the pattern of stress and intonation in a language. Prosody often conveys the emotional content of a language, or it signals irony, sarcasm and emphasis. I'm not good at interpreting prosody. Business calls are a little easier than social calls. They usually follow a pattern and I can formulate a script ahead of time. But this is not a business call, so I don't know what to expect. I don't know why you wanted me to call you. You didn't explain anything. I'm just assuming this is a social call. Is this a social call, Nigel?"

Adam's voice was tense, his words clipped as if he had prepared that little speech in advance.

Nigel was floored. "So you basically called me just to tell me you don't want to call me?"

"Yes." Adam paused. "And to tell you, you can talk to me in person. It's easier for me. I don't like it much either, but it's easier. You were nice. I think I can manage talking to you again."

"Thanks...I guess?"

"You're welcome...does that mean you'd like to see me again too?"

Nigel chuckled. "Yes, it does. Just give me a time and a place and I will be there. You can tell me about the stars again."

The offer came as an afterthought, but Adam's voice was audibly excited when he answered.

"Tomorrow I don't have time, we'll be having a full moon. I'll be at the park at 9pm."

"You weren't at the park these last weeks," Nigel said, trying and failing not to sound accusatory. If Adam noticed then he ignored Nigel's indignation.

"No, I only am during a full moon. It's brighter."

"Well, fuck and here I tried to catch you there every day for how long? A week?"

"Why would I be there when there's no full moon?"

Nigel blinked. Then he laughed.

"Right, why would you? Silly me. So should we meet there?"

This was all fucking ridiculous. He felt like a teenager trying to score a date.

"No. I want to watch it alone. Usually, there are no people at the park when I go there. I didn't expect you. It surprised me."

Adam's voice was even, yet Nigel couldn't shake off the impression that he was accused of something.

"Listen, darling. I didn't mean to interrupt your alone time, you know?"

"I know, but you did. I'm not angry with you Nigel, but I’d rather meet somewhere else. You can come to the observatory on Saturday at 7pm. It's closed for the public, but I'll be there to watch the stars. We can watch them together."

"You know what, Adam? That sounds fucking lovely."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once more, I want to thank everyone who gave kudos or commented. You guys are the best. Your love keeps me going!
> 
> I didn't plan on uploading the third chapter this soon, but it's so short I thought why let the people wait for so little? So here we are now.


	4. It's a date. Probably. Maybe. Who knows.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a date, Nigel thinks. He doesn't know if anybody bothered to tell Adam.

"You know, that's actually pretty damn impressive."

Nigel spun around on his heels, eyes up the ceiling as he took in the massive telescope occupying most of the space in the circular room.

Adam beamed at him, his smile lighting up his whole face as he made a hesitant step towards Nigel.

"The Hooker telescope is an 100-inch telescope. It was the world's largest telescope from 1917 to 1949. It was used by Edward Hubble soon after its installation in 1917, as well as by Fritz Zwicky in the 30s. Zwicky found evidence for dark matter using it. Hubble discovered that the Universe goes beyond the Milky Way and is expanding. The discovery changed how we scientifically view the Universe and--"

His little speech came to a stuttering halt, its effortless flow destroyed by Nigel's unexpected and barking laughter.

"I'm sorry, darling. Did you just say hooker telescope?"

Nigel tore his gaze away from the impressive instrument to look at Adam, chuckling underneath his breath.

Adam nodded, confusion written all over his face. "Yes. That's its name, Nigel."

"Who names a telescope after a fucking prostitute?"

The blue eyes trying its hardest to avoid Nigel's own widened in realization. "Oh! You're confusing the family name Hooker with the colloquial term for a sex worker. That's why you're laughing."

"Yeah, gorgeous. That's why I'm laughing."

The expression on Adam's face was equal parts bewilderment and satisfaction, his mouth twitching as if he couldn't decide whether to laugh or to frown.

It was fascinating to watch. In his line of work, Nigel was used to people lying all the fucking time, people who knew exactly which muscle in their face to move to reveal only what they wanted to reveal, knew how to flutter their lashes to appear innocent and trustworthy, how to twist the truth just so to fit their own agenda.

Adam was different, his face an open book with the pages laid out for Nigel to flip through at his leisure. It gave him an unfair advantage, he realized, but he was not above exploiting it. With Adam, he felt a nearly compulsive need to discover how many more expressions he could provoke.

He was particularly fond of the look of confusion on Adam's pretty face. It was surpassed only by his expression of joy, when his eyes would shine as bright as the stars he loved so much and, fuck it all, he had got it bad if his inner monologue sounded like a cheap soap opera.

"Oh..." Adam whispered, his voice soft. "Does that mean you like it?"

"It's fucking big and named after a prostitute, if there's any telescope I've ever liked it's gotta be this one."

Not the most coherent of reason, but he must have said something right. The confusion on Adam's face melted away to be replaced by relief. Yet another expression Nigel could commit to his memory.

"Do you want to look at the stars?" Adam asked. "With me, I mean. We're outside the usual visiting hours, but I have a special permit to use the telescope as long as I don't compromise any relevant data. I can show you my favorite celestial objects."

Adam talked fast and didn't pause to catch his breath in between his sentences, his fingers curling into the hem of his sweater. He looked utterly delectable. How could Nigel refuse?

"Sure, darling. Show me those stars of yours."

He had no fucking clue about stars and galaxies and the discovery of black matter, but he listened when Adam explained it to him, the enthusiasm in his voice increasing with every second Nigel let him go on longer without interruption.

He watched dutifully when Adam showed him Mars and its moon Phobos, explaining to him how Phobos was predicted to break apart or collide with Mars in 50 million years. He looked at the stars making up the constellation of Orion, confusing Alnilam with Alnitak once, which prompted Adam to start his lecture on the mythology behind the names all over again, eager like a student hell-bent on impressing their teacher. By the time Adam listed off stars found in the band of Orion in order of size, Nigel didn't look at them anymore. He looked at Adam.

His cheeks were flushed, his red lips moving without cease, at times parting to reveal the tip of his pink tongue. Nigel wanted to kiss him. Really wanted to kiss him. Nigel also happened to have horrible impulse control.

He put an arm around Adam's waist and pulled him close. Adam's skin was soft to the touch and Nigel hesitated only for a second before giving into the urge to press his nose against the junction where Adam's shoulder curved into his long neck. The reaction was instantaneous. Adam shut his mouth with a click and turned to Nigel, his eyes wide, his body unmoving, the proverbial deer caught in the headlights.

"Nigel, what are you doing?"

"I think I'm trying to kiss you, darling."

Adam fell silent, his whole body tense in Nigel's arms, though he made no move to escape the hold.

It was by no means the reaction Nigel had been hoping for, or even expecting. Far from it, to be honest. He could deal with people telling him to fuck off and keep his filthy hands to himself. He didn't quite know how to deal with Adam's silent rejection.

"Listen, gorgeous. If you don't wanna--"

"I've got Asperger's!"

Nigel shut his mouth with a snap, stunned into silence, and blinked owlishly at the boy squirming in his arms.

"You got what?"

"I've got Asperger's Syndrome. Though that is not the proper term anymore. Since May 2013 Asperger's Syndrome has been officially dropped from the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. Its symptoms now come under the term _Autism Spectrum Disorder_. An umbrella term that includes different forms of autism as well as Asperger's. I have difficulties with social interactions. It's hard for me to recognize and interpret facial expressions. I-I don't understand when people say something, but mean something else entirely."

Nigel stared, his mouth hanging open as Adam went on and on without a pause. It all made fucking sense now: the way Adam wouldn't meet his eyes. How he was borderline rude in his honesty. Why his smile was such a tender and guarded thing. Asperger's Syndrome.

"I didn't tell you because I was afraid." Adam mumbled, his fingers tapping in an unknown rhythm against Nigel's chest. "I know that isn't okay, it's almost like lying and I don't like liars, which is why I'm telling you now. You were nice to me. I didn't want you to know how weird I am."

Nigel swallowed down a snort and tightened his grip.

"So you got this Asperger's, or whatever, but you're not fucking dying or something?" Because that would've just been Nigel's luck.

Adam shook his head, his curls brushing against Nigel's exposed collar.

"No terminal illness? Nothing I could catch? No crazy exes out for revenge if I dare to lay a finger on you?"

Adam furrowed his brows, his eyes darting back and forth between Nigel's face and the tattoo on his neck. He still hadn't pulled away.

"It's not a terminal illness. Asperger's Syndrome isn't contagious. I don't understand what you mean with crazy exes?"

"Never mind the crazy exes, darling. You're not dying. I'm not dying. You just got this thing where you can't understand social cues or whatever and you're basically the world's shittiest liar. Did I get that right?"

Adam nodded.

"Then what the fuck does this have to do with me really wanting to fucking kiss you right now?"

Adam's eyes widened. "You still do?"

And that was it. Nigel was a fucking goner. Kid couldn't be serious. He sounded surprised - honest-to-goodness surprised - that anybody would want to kiss him.

"Fucking hell," Nigel cursed, barely resisting the urge to throw his hands up in frustration. "Yes, Adam. Yes, I do."

"Oh...okay, that's good, because I think I'd like to kiss you as well."

"Thank fucking god," Nigel laughed as he leaned down and pressed his mouth onto Adam's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting somewhere, finally!


	5. Scars like Cassiopeia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nigel has a lot of scars and all of them remind Adam of the stars.

"You have a lot of scars," Adam said, one day, eyes on the cut running from underneath Nigel's armpit down to his waist. It had never healed completely and left Nigel with a lot of ugly scar tissue, and quite the story to tell at the table.

Nigel stopped rummaging through the fridge, one pale brow raised in question as he straightened up to look at Adam.

Unlike Nigel, who hadn't bothered to put on more than his boxer shorts this morning, Adam was in his pajamas, two sizes too big but his proclaimed favorites, for the simple reason that there were stars and planets printed onto the woolen fabric. It was fucking unfair how he managed to look utterly beautiful in them, at seven thirty in the morning, with his hair tousled from sleep and his shirt all rumpled.

Nigel wanted to kiss him - he always wanted to - but refrained for now. They had never bothered to give a name to the thing they had, or discussed if they had anything at all. They shared a bed and Nigel kissed Adam in the morning, lazily, with a lot of tongue and teeth, before Adam was awake enough to complain about his morning breath. Nigel went out to buy groceries for him, the list always containing the same few items (chicken, broccoli and Kraft's macaroni and cheese). He even went so far as to do the fucking laundry, like a fucking housewife, because he knew how much Adam hated the inevitable chaos that came with a pile of dirty clothes that needed to be sorted by color and material before washing. Fucking hell, he basically lived with Adam, only ever returning to his shithole of a flat when he needed to get some bloody business done.

The relationship he had with Adam was impossible to compare to the one with Gabi. He had loved her to the point of madness, but he had never done her fucking laundry. What he had with Gabi, it had been a maelstrom of sex, drugs and petty jealousy. With Adam though...

Fuck, they hadn't even done anything more than kissing and Nigel couldn't remember the last time he awoke and didn't sport an erection, courtesy of Adam pressing up against him during the night. But fear held Nigel back. The fear of overwhelming Adam, of pressuring him into something outside of what he was comfortable with, of losing the trust he had built over the last months.

Adam's sharp eyes were on him, curious as they regarded the lines and creases of Nigel's battered body.

"The one underneath your ribs. It looks like a moon crater, like Tycho." he pointed out, a pleased smile playing around the corners of his mouth.

Nigel shrugged. "Bullet wound. Got myself shot in Moscow. Fucking Russians."

"Oh."

No doubt, Adam was trying to figure out if Nigel had meant it literally when he talked about ' _fucking Russians_ ', before deciding that it was highly unlikely he had fornicated with the same people who had shot him.

It was endearing, most of the time. At others, it was exhausting. There were days when Nigel couldn't be in the same room with Adam without risking to trigger an anxiety attack. Lovers or not, Adam needed breaks from social interactions, breaks from Nigel himself. In the beginning, it had been fucking hard to be denied the proximity of the one whose presence Nigel craved so feverishly. He may had learned his lesson with the disaster that was Gabi, but he was still possessive by nature.

Nobody had ever dared to tell Nigel no before. Adam did so frequently and without fear. Whenever Nigel wanted to kiss him in the morning without having brushed his teeth first, when he was about to light a cigarette in their kitchen and Adam glared at him with severity. In the end, Nigel always bent to Adam's will. Darko would've laughed his ass off if he saw him so whipped, Nigel had no doubt about it, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

It wasn't always easy to swallow his fucking pride and stuff the cigarettes back into his pants' pocket, or pull away from Adam's half-opened lips despite wanting to kiss them until they were shining wet and swollen. Nigel did it because he was fucking smitten with Adam fucking Raki. He did it, because seeing Adam smile and hear him whisper a soft ' _thank you_ ' was worth enduring the craving for a smoke, and rolling out of bed at seven in the fucking morning to brush his teeth. Adam made it up to him in his own way - buying Nigel cigarettes at the corner store down the street on his way home from work, kissing him with the desperation of a dying man every time they laid together in bed, ready to retire for the night - and with this, Nigel found it hard to feel indignant.

All his secrets belonged to Adam and Nigel shared as much as he could when the boy's natural curiosity got the better of him, like now.

"The scars on your back, did somebody shoot you there too?" he asked.

Nigel slammed the refrigerator door shut with more force than necessary, earning himself a raised, reprimanding brow from Adam, which he acknowledged with a shrug. He found what he had been looking for - a cold slice of pizza he had ordered when he was out till the early hours of the day and too lazy to cook.

"Which one?" he asked, mouth stuffed full.

"There are five scars on your lower back, small and in close proximity, above your tailbone. They look like Cassiopeia."

Nigel chewed on his pizza, curiosity glinting in his eyes as he regarded Adam. In many ways, he was still an enigma and after two months of knowing him Nigel was convinced he would never completely decipher the mechanisms of his remarkable mind. Adam was a riddle he'd never solve but would always try to.

"Show me," Nigel demanded and stepped closer, still only in his boxers.

"I'd need a mirror for that, Nigel. You can't possibly see them when they're on your back."

Adam's eyes darted back and forth between Nigel's face and his crotch, his lips pursed in flustered indignation. Nigel would've been a filthy liar if he said that didn't cause a wave of smug satisfaction to surge through him.

"No shit, Adam. Show me by touching me. Easy as that. I don't need my eyes to feel your touch, you know?"

He turned to present his back, not bothering to wait for a reply.

The touch, when it came, was expected, it's feather-light gentleness was not. Adam touched him as if he was something delicate and fragile.

It irritated Nigel for reasons he couldn't explain. Gentleness was not a foreign concept for him. He could be tender, soft even. Gabi had known he was intimately acquainted with his violence as much as his tenderness, but she had never tried to touch him like Adam did. Nigel wasn't the type of man to invoke a sense of gentleness in others and he had been fine with it. All the more surprising then to find himself on the receiving end of such a soft caress.

Adam didn't care. Adam touched his scarred skin with a hesitation born only from consideration.

Nigel gasped as those curious fingers explored the rugged edges of one scar, tracing its shape, before moving on to the next.

"Where are these from?" Adam asked, and Nigel opened eyes he didn't know he had closed. It took a while, his mind a scrambled mess thanks to Adam, the memories vague when they finally returned. He had earned these scars years ago, when he had been young and stupid, thinking he was on top of the world and getting into trouble more often than not, just because he could.

"Got stabbed in the fucking back. Five fucking times, with a damn cutter. Who the hell stabs a guy with a cutter? Don't answer that, darling."

He turned to look at Adam, taking in his worried expression.

"They're pretty, but I don't like how you got them. I have scars too, one on my forehead from where I hit myself on the edge of a table when I was eight, another on my hip. I can't remember where I got it from, but nobody ever tried to stab me."

Nigel laughed, his heart swelling with affection. "I doubt anybody ever had reason to, gorgeous."

"Did they have reason to stab you?"

"Plenty."

Adam fell silent, his eyes on Nigel's lips as he raised from his seat and kissed him without an ounce of shyness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is going to be smut and nothing but smut. You have been warned.


	6. Băiat drag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam never ceased to amaze Nigel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is no point in pretending that this is anything but porn. Enjoy!

"Don't you want to have sex with me?"

It was no accusation, of course it wasn't, not with Adam, yet Nigel couldn't help but feel caught.

"Because if that's the case then I have no problem accepting it, Nigel. But I really would like to have sex with you, so if you do too it'd be best to tell me."

Adam paused, his nose crunched up in contemplation. "Masturbation is becoming rather unfulfilling after some time. I didn't ask before, since Beth said that's not something you ask people, but I don't know how else to signal that I would like to sleep with you."

Nigel blinked once, twice, before he groaned, dragging a hand down his face in frustration. Of course he wanted to have sex with Adam, wanted it since they had shared their first kiss in the observatory and Adam had looked at him with stars shining in his eyes and a soft blush dusting his cheeks.

And yet he had always refrained in fear of overwhelming Adam. It hadn't felt right to ask for something so intimate when, at times, even a soft brush of fingers against his overly sensitive skin was too much for him. All the more surprising was it then to be asked with such bluntness for something Nigel hadn't dared to demand himself. He had never been shy about sex, or wanting to have sex. Nor saw he any reason to be ashamed of his own desires, yet here he stood, dumbstruck and overwhelmed.

Adam fidgeted with the hem of his sweater, his innocent appearance a stark contrast to his frank request.

"Of course I want to, gorgeous. Nothing I'd want more, in fact," Nigel blurted out. "I just--fuck, I just didn't know. Wait, have you even slept with a man before?"

Adam had told him about his previous relationship with a woman called Beth, but he had never mentioned male lovers. His suspicions were confirmed when Adam shook his head.

"No, I haven't, but I did some research on homosexual relationships and intercourse. I practiced."

Nigel nearly choked on his own spit. "You practiced?!"

"Yes!" Adam explained, his whole face alight with pride. "I read about proper preparation and decided to regularly finger myself. At first it was quite strange and I failed to see the appeal, but once I managed to locate my prostate I found it quite enjoyable."

"You...started fingering yourself?" Nigel could do little more but stare.

"Yes, I imagined you'd enjoy penetrating me more than being penetrated by me, so it was only logical."

"When did you even...how?" Nigel asked, his voice unnaturally shrill.

He practically lived with Adam, spent most nights in his bed with his arms curled tightly around Adam's smaller body. When did Adam have time to indulge in anal stimulation?

"In the shower, after I properly cleaned myself of course." Adam paused, the prideful glow slowly vanishing when Nigel failed to reciprocate his enthusiasm. "Did I do something wrong? I didn't mean to insult you. It's just...I want to have sex with you, so I automatically assumed you'd want to have sex with me as well. Should I not have done that?"

"Fucking hell, darling. You did nothing wrong, I'm just a fucking idiot. Fuck!"

Adam eyed him quizzically, his head tilted to the side. "Nigel?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he grabbed Adam by the waist and hoisted him up over his shoulder.

"Nigel?" Adam squealed, his curls tickling Nigel's neck as he made his way upstairs to their shared bedroom, almost stumbling twice in his excitement.

He laid Adam out on the sheets, careful not to hurt him. "Did you practice today as well, gorgeous?"

Adam nodded. "I wanted to ask you to have sex with me today, so I thought it would be best to do so in case you agreed to it."

"Adam fucking Raki," Nigel laughed, burying his nose in the sweet-smelling mass of Adam's hair. "You're a fucking delight."

He kissed a trail from Adam's forehead down his cheek and chin, feeling the smile tugging at Adam's mouth and widening with every soft peck Nigel bestowed upon him.

"So you're not angry with me?"

Nigel sucked on a spot right behind Adam's ear. "No."

"And you want to have sex with me?"

"Very much so," he whispered before biting down on Adam's earlobe, earning himself a small shiver.

"T-that's good." Adam hesitated for a moment before his hands found Nigel's neck, his fingers playing with the fine silver hair as he pulled Nigel close for a proper kiss.

They were both panting and hard in their trousers by the time they broke apart and Nigel didn't waste another second to get rid of his pants and underwear, throwing them aside without caring where they'd land. Every other day, this would have earned him a sharp reprimand. Today, Adam was too distracted by the sight of Nigel's erection to berate him for his lack of mindfulness.

"It's big," he said, and Nigel very nearly swooned at the honesty with which the alleged compliment was delivered. Adam wasn't one to make compliments, he spoke the truth and nothing else. All the more satisfying was it then to hear him speak in such a way. "It looks different from mine."

"Let me be the judge of that, darling."

He made quick work of Adam's pants and boxer shorts - plain black today, nothing space-themed - and spread his legs, his hands holding firmly onto the soft thighs, his fingers digging into the pale flesh.

Adam's cock was flushed a lovely shade of pink, twitching with every breath he took and oozing precum onto his flat belly.

"You're cut," Nigel remarked and reached out to drag his thumb over the slit at the tip.

Adam moaned, his whole body arching into the miniscule touch.

"You're also very sensitive, gorgeous. Think you can handle my mouth on your pretty cock?"

"Yes."

"Well, in that case..."

It had been a while since Nigel had last sucked dick and his technique may have left something to be desired, but he tried to make up for it with sheer enthusiasm, swallowing Adam down until his cock hit the back of Nigel's throat and the coarse curls of his pubic hair tickled his nose. Judging by the tremors running through Adam's body whenever Nigel licked a long line from the base to the tip, lapping up precum as if it was the most delicious thing he had ever tasted, his efforts were well appreciated.

"Nigel..." Adam whispered, his fingers fumbling to grab Nigel's hair.

Nigel pulled off his cock with a wet plop and looked at his boy, all flushed and panting. He was utterly beautiful.

"What is it, darling?" he asked, pressing kisses onto the spot right underneath Adam's belly button.

"I'm going to come if you keep doing that, and I don't want to. Not like this."

He didn't blush, didn't fidget with embarrassment, he just looked at Nigel, meeting his eyes for once, while his hard cock pressed insistently against Nigel's collarbone.

"What do you want then?"

Adam pulled at his hair and Nigel complied, shifting upwards until they were eye to eye, their erections rubbing against each other.

"I'd like to be completely naked first. I don't want you to get any stains on your shirt," Adam said and Nigel snorted. "I like the shirt, it has puppies on it."

"Sure, lovely, whatever you want. Can't have cum stains on the puppies, now can we?"

Adam nodded, seemingly pleased and Nigel pressed another kiss onto the lovely curve of his mouth.

"Help me then, to get that fucking shirt off."

There was no need to tell Adam twice. Nimble fingers made quick work of his buttons and soon enough his shirt joined the rest of their clothes piling up next to the bed.

"Oh...your chest is hairy." Adam looked at the thick patch spreading over his chest, eyes shining with awe as his hands combed through it with gentle curiosity. "I like it very much."

Fuck, Adam fucking Raki would be the death of him.

"You better, gorgeous, cause there's no way in hell I'm gonna shave it off, not even for you."

Nigel descended upon Adam, sucking a dark bruise into the sensitive skin of his neck. All the while, his hands snuck underneath the hem of Adam's shirt, pushing it up inch for inch until it was bundled up just underneath his chin and his chest was exposed to Nigel's hungry gaze.

Adam was smooth, only a few hairs scattered around his stiff nipples, and Nigel made sure to return the previous favor and rub his palms over the soft expanse of Adam's chest. He pinched the boy's nipples once, delighting in the shuddering moan it pulled from him.

"Lift your arms."

As much as Nigel enjoyed Adam's hands on him, he wanted him naked, laid out before him like a decadent feast waiting to be devoured.

Nigel didn't look when he threw it aside after finally succeeding in getting the awful sweater off Adam. He couldn't care less where it landed, he had eyes for Adam only.

"Beautiful," he murmured under his breath.

And Adam was, more so than anybody else Nigel had shared a bed with. So beautiful in fact, Nigel felt like a sinner condemned to hell when he took Adam's face between his hands and kissed him with a tenderness he wouldn't have believed himself capable of.

"Nigel..."

"I know, darling."

He didn't break the kiss when he reached between their heated bodies, brushing along Adam's erection for a moment before reaching lower still, until he found what he had been looking for.

Adam's hole was small, and tight when Nigel experimentally pressed the tip of his index finger inside, despite Adam's claims to have prepared himself in the shower.

"Fuck, darling, we'll need lube for this to work. You're tight as fuck."

"I-in the drawer of the nightstand." Adam's voice was little more than a hushed whisper, his hips undulating against Nigel's.

"You thought of everything, didn't you? Fuck, you're an evil mastermind."

Nigel pulled away - not without extreme effort - and leaned over to the nightstand in question, rummaging through its contents until his shaking fingers found the bottle of lube and a pack of condoms.

The lube was cold to the touch and Adam shivered when Nigel poured a generous amount into his palm, before rubbing his sticky fingers in soothing circles against the tight ring of muscles between Adam's ass cheeks.

"Breathe, darling. Relax, I'm not gonna hurt you."

Adam smiled at him then, his long lashes sticky with sweat and his body flushed a vibrant red.

"I know, Nigel. I trust you."

Nigel paused as if struck by lightning. His chest arched as he regarded the boy underneath him, the embodiment of innocence, naked, flushed and aroused as he was.

"Fucking hell, Adam," he muttered, hiding his face in the crook of Adam's neck.

Finally, he moved and pressed a finger inside Adam. The glide was easy enough, thanks to the lube, and Adam took it without protest.

"More," he demanded, lifting his hips.

Nigel nearly bit off the tip of his tongue in an effort to swallow yet another violent curse. The first finger was soon joined by a second and Nigel watched enraptured while Adam moved his hips, fucking himself on Nigel's fingers. He arched off the bed a moment later and cried out loud enough to startle the neighbors when Nigel crooked his fingers and pressed against the small bundle of nerves he found there.

"T-this feels very good, Nigel!" he moaned, his heels digging into the sheets.

"Does it, gorgeous? Tell me how much."

"It feels better than when I do it," he admitted and Nigel paused to take in the lovely sight. Adam was a shivering, panting mess, and he was all Nigel's.

"Want me to fuck you, darling?" he purred, his fingers moving in and out, working Adam open with leisured strokes. "Want my cock inside you?"

"Y-yes, please," Adam gasped and Nigel could've cum right then and there. He fumbled with the condom, dropping it twice before he managed to tear the wrapper open and roll it onto his hard cock.

When he positioned himself between Adam's spread legs, ready to thrust inside the tight heat of his lover's body, Adam held him back with a touch to his chest and a breathy, nearly inaudible 'no' .

"What is it, darling?" he asked. His thighs were trembling, his hips arching to thrust forward.

"Not like this."

Before Nigel could ask what he meant Adam had already flipped them over, reversing their positions so that he was sitting on top, his lube-slick ass cheeks rubbing against Nigel's cock.

"It's better like this for a first time," Adam explained, his blue eyes meeting Nigel's. "Because I can control the depth and intensity of the penetration."

"Fuck, darling, keep talking like that and there will be no penetration at all, cause I'll be coming all over myself and your thighs."

Adam, the cheeky little brat, smiled down at him, ass pressed against his prominent erection. "That'd be very unfortunate."

He lifted his hips and reached behind himself to grab Nigel's neglected cock, positioning it underneath his prepared hole.

"Could you help me, Nigel?"

Nigel didn't waste a second and held himself at the base. "Move, darling. I have you, I'll hold you."

Adam gave him another smile and did as he was told, carefully lowering himself on Nigel's dick. He gasped when the tip slipped inside, his brows furrowed in concentration.

"Breathe, gorgeous. You're doing so well."

Nigel rubbed soothing circles into Adam's soft skin, watching the beautiful creature on top of him with enraptured awe. Adam's eyes were closed when he took the hard cock inch for inch, but his mouth fell open and little gasps slipped past his lips whenever Nigel couldn't resist the urge to meet Adam's thrusts with his own.

Finally, all of Nigel was buried inside Adam and both of them had to pause to catch their breaths. Adam was tight, so unbelievably tight, and Nigel bit his lower lip to keep himself from rolling them over once more and fucking Adam raw.

It was Adam who moved first, circling his hips and moving slowly up and down until he had lost himself in the steady rhythm.

He was nothing short of divine, moaning with every careful push, his eyes half-closed, the brown curls in lovely disarray as they stuck to his sweaty forehead.

"Beautiful," Nigel breathed, hands on both sides of Adam's hips as he guided him through the motions.

Adam was different from the other, numerous people he previously had sex with. No false bashfulness, no strained attempts to appear alluring to Nigel. He was as honest with his sexual desires as he was with every other aspect of his life.

"You feel good inside me, Nigel," he whispered, his fingers tightening in the grey hair on Nigel's chest. "Very big."

Nigel laughed and thrust into Adam with a languid roll of his hips, pleased with the breathy moans that tumbled from his rosy mouth.

"Lovely boy. Beautiful boy. _Băiat drag_."

"Hng...Nigel...could you touch me, please?" Adam arched his back and spread his legs impossibly wide, his short nails digging into Nigel's thighs as he struggled for purchase.

All the while, Nigel watched, mesmerized by the sight of his own cock sliding in and out of Adam. Every move accompanied by Adam's shuddering moans and whispered words. He wasn't overly loud, but vocal in a way Nigel had never experienced with a lover before. He babbled about how good it felt to have Nigel inside him, how much he had wanted to do this with him, and Nigel floated in a wave of bliss.

In his haze, he reached out and grabbed Adam's stiff cock, jerking him in rhythm with their desperate movements.

Adam didn't tell him when he was close, Nigel's only warning the tell-tale twitch of the cock in his hand and a soft whine spilling past Adam's lips as he threw his head back, exposing his white throat. When he came, his mouth fell open in a silent scream, and cum splattered on Nigel's hand and Adam's belly.

"Fuck, gorgeous! Fuck!"

"You too, Nigel..." Adam urged, entirely out of breath.

"Fuck!" Nigel cursed once more, before he lifted Adam up and manhandled his pliant body into a lying position. He entered him again, Adam's legs resting on his shoulders as he fucked him in earnest.

Moments later, he reached his peak, with Adam's name on his tongue and the realization that he'd die for this boy.

###

His sleep was deep and dreamless - the sleep of the happily exhausted - right up to the moment when the obnoxious ringtone of his phone tore him from it.

"Nigel?" Adam mumbled, eyes still closed and his voice heavy with fatigue.

"Go back to sleep, gorgeous. It's just some business I have to take care of."

He got out of bed, pressing a kiss to Adam's forehead before leaving, and made his way outside onto the tiny balcony with the wonky handrail, naked as the day he was born.

One look at this phone's display and he knew exactly who he was dealing with.

"I swear to fucking god, Whitman, if this is not fucking important then I'm going to cut off your fucking balls," he growled as he answered the call, loud enough to attract the attention of a couple staring at him from down the street. He gave them the finger.

He didn't give a damn and he was in no fucking mood to deal with Whitman or his pathetic whining.

"What?!" he hissed, once Whitman had finished his long-winded explanation of why the fuck he was calling. Basically, everything started to fall apart the moment Nigel decided to leave his business in the hands of others. Incompetent fuckheads, all of them.

"Did I get this fucking right, Whitman? Because I really hope for your sake that I fucking didn't. Somehow it sounded a lot like you were trying to tell me that a shit-ton of powder just disappeared. Poof, and gone! Is that fucking right, Whitman?"

He'd not only cut this guy's balls off, he'd feed them to the dogs.

"You useless piece of shit! You're lucky I'm in a fucking great mood. And you know why? Because I just had fucking good sex. Unfortunately, you ruined it with your fucking call. I want nothing more than to get back into bed with the beauty that is waiting there for me, so I give you one chance, Whitman, Only one chance to get me my fucking coke back. You better get going or I promise you I'll make your life a living hell."

He ended the call with another curse, itching to hit something. He already had buyers for the damn coke and now Whitman had fucked up a perfectly easy deal. Nigel would have given an arm and a leg to have competent people underneath him just once.

"Nigel?"

Fuck, he hadn't even heard Adam approaching, but here he was, in nothing but Nigel's dachshund shirt. It reached barely past Adam's crotch, covering half of his thighs. Nigel felt his mouth water at the sight.

"Hey, gorgeous. Did I wake you?"

"You were very loud and you sounded angry. You're not angry with me, are you?" He paused to take in Nigel's state of undress, appreciation mixing with indignation. "Nigel, you should put some clothes on, you'll upset the neighbors."

"Fuck the neighbors."

Nigel laughed and picked Adam up by the waist, carrying him back to their mussed bed. "I'm not angry with you. I fucking adore you, my beautiful piece of stardust, and I'm gonna make sure you won't be leaving this bed for the rest of the day."

Fuck Whitman and the fucking coke.


	7. I'm very sorry.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nigel is a liar, always was, always will be, but he never wanted to lie to Adam.

All good things came to an end. It was a lesson Nigel had learned very early in life, so it really shouldn't have surprised him when it all went to hell.

He had almost forgotten how much it hurt to get fucking shot, even if it was just a graze. Only thing more fucking humiliating than getting shot in the middle of the day on a busy street was how he hadn't seen it coming, too caught up in domestic bliss like the lovestruck fool he obviously was.

The signs had all been there. Business had been slow the last few months, his associates all incompetent morons who were too busy sticking hundred dollar notes down stripper's panties to do their fucking job. Really, he should have seen it coming. It was only a matter of time until somebody tried to fuck him over because they felt like Nigel had stepped on their toes with his aggressive expanding politics and no-nonsense attitude.

Nigel had expected a gang fight, or some good old-fashioned intimidation and extortion. He hadn't expected to be shot during one of the rare shopping trips with Adam.

Neither of them was very fond of these, but Adam could wear his limited collection of sweaters only for so long before he had to admit he needed something new. It was annoying and stressful, especially for Adam, and Nigel's constant, muffled cursing didn't make it any easier for either of them.

"Fucking hell, next time we just shop online, gorgeous. Did you see how that fucking cashier looked at you in the last store? As if you were stupid. I swear, next asshole who dares to look at you like that will be socked in their fucking face, I don't fucking care," he grumbled, fingers fumbling with the pack of cigarettes in his pocket. He would've killed for a smoke, but Adam was anxious enough without Nigel contributing to it further.

"Nigel," Adam admonished softly. "I need to try the clothes on. I can't do that online."

His fingers twitched and Nigel didn't hesitate to take Adam's shaking hand in his. A month ago, the sudden touch would've made Adam uncomfortable at best, downright anxious at worst. He would've pulled away, his eyes on the ground as he tried his hardest to avoid having to look at Nigel. Now, he clung to Nigel like a lifeline in a storm, his eyes conveying the gratitude he couldn't put into words.

"I'm just saying that it would be less fucking annoying for both of us. You can always send back the things that don't fit," Nigel huffed, and continued to complain in muffled Romanian underneath his breath when Adam merely shook his head at the suggestion.

"It's alright, Nigel. I don't like it, but I'm used to it. I bought all my clothes on my own before as well," Adam threw Nigel a look, a hesitant smile pulling at his full lips. "And now I have you. It's a lot easier with you. Even though you curse a lot."

Nigel stopped dead in his tracks, looking down at Adam and their intertwined fingers. He didn't care that they were out in the public and surrounded by people. He leaned down and captured Adam's mouth in a kiss.

It was tender, loving, and Nigel would have kissed Adam until they were both out of breath if not for the sudden pain exploding near his shoulder and spreading down to his arm and back.

He gasped into the kiss, his vision becoming blurry as he tried and failed to focus on Adam's questioning gaze. Nigel was no stranger to this particular brand of pain. After all, he had been shot before. Never under such circumstances though, in the middle of a lively street.

The absurdity of it all made him break into laughter, the motion sending another wave of pain surging through his body. It reminded him of how he had met Adam months ago, bleeding and in pain. He moved a hand to his neck, the other curled tightly around Adam's quivering form. It was no surprise when it came back red with his own blood.

Panic erupted around them when a woman spotted the blood seeping into Nigel's shirt and screamed for help, her hysterical shrieking ringing in Nigel's ears. He would've snapped at her to keep her fucking mouth shut if he hadn't felt like the world around him was crumbling to dust. His tongue had turned to lead, the only thing tumbling from his quivering lips a tortured gurgle.

Shit, he thought, eyes still on Adam. His boy looked terrified, his eyes wide and unfocused as they moved erratically from Nigel's mouth to his neck and shoulder.

"Nigel?" he whispered, his whole body shaking.

"D-darling, don't...don't panic. Everything is alright."

He was lying straight out of his ass. It was testimony to Adam's confusion that he merely nodded.

"You don't look alright, Nigel. You're bleeding and it won't stop. Nigel, I-I don't know what to do."

"It's fine, lovely, no need to worry. I'm peachy. _Sănătos tun_ , fuck! I mean...fit as a fiddle."

He was babbling, half-delirious from blood loss and pain, and before Adam could form a reply Nigel's world went dark.

* * *

 

When he awoke to the smell of antiseptics and the slow steady beep of electrical monitoring he knew, even before he opened his eyes, that he was in a hospital. No matter which continent, no matter the country, hospital rooms always smelled the same: disinfect and, underneath it, blood and death, a scent so familiar to Nigel it was almost comforting.

Nigel was alive and in agonizing pain. His neck hurt, the flesh sensitive underneath a thick layer of gauze. His throat felt like it was on fire. Thirsty, he was fucking thirsty and the room was too damn bright when he dared to open his eyes. The painted green walls that were supposed to be calming made him want to throw up.

"You're awake."

It was Adam's sweet voice and Nigel turned to see the boy sitting next to his bed, his hands holding tightly onto a small NASA lunchbox.

"Gorgeous," Nigel croaked, his voice little more than a whisper.

Adam looked tired and uncomfortable, his eyes sunken into the sockets and his hair a mess. He must have cried earlier.

"You lied to me," Adam said, his eyes cast down. "You said everything was alright, even though you were bleeding. I'm not stupid, Nigel."

"I know you're not, darling." In fact, Nigel knew with utmost certainty that Adam was far more clever than anybody else he had met in his life, himself included. "Just didn't want you to worry. Didn't quite work out, did it? You look as if you haven't slept in days."

He pat the spot next to him on the bed in invitation, but Adam only twitched in his seat, body tense with nervous agitation.

"Come on, gorgeous. Don't make me beg. I'm sorry."

Adam shook his head and Nigel saw that fresh tears were rolling down his cheeks. He reached out on instinct and hissed when pain shot up his neck and shoulder.

"Fuck," he growled and let himself fall back into the soft cotton sheets. He felt old, like a damn fool and fucking weak. Gone were the days when he would lie in a cheap motel room, bleeding like a pig and still perfectly capable of stitching himself up without so much as breaking a sweat. Now, the soft light coming in through the window was enough to make his head pound in a steady interval of pain and he had no choice but to close his eyes with another weak curse.

For a while, they sat in silence and Nigel was close to succumbing to exhaustion and falling asleep when the mattress dipped underneath a sudden additional weight. Nigel opened his eyes and found himself face to face with Adam.

"We need to talk, Nigel. I don't like you keeping things from me, but that's what you did. Not telling me something is the same as lying to me. I don't want you to lie to me."

He was beautiful despite the bags underneath his eyes and Nigel lifted a his shaking hand to brush his thumb over the tear-damp skin.

"I know, baby, and I'm sorry. For not telling you things. For making you worry. Heck, I don't even know what the hell happened exactly."

"Somebody shot you. The police don't know who did it." Adam's voice was shaking, his words strained as he struggled to hold onto his composure. "You lost a lot of blood because the bullet grazed your neck and--and..."

He broke off and fresh tears rolled down his cheeks, down his chin, until they finally fell and stained Nigel's hospital gown.

"It's alright, darling. You don't need to say anything else. I'm fine. Will you be fine too?"

Adam shook his head and Nigel couldn't suppress a small grin. Honest as always.

"No. I was worried, Nigel. Really worried. They wouldn't tell me anything at first, because we're not related or married. I-I thought I would never see you again, Nigel. And I really don't want that. I don't want to be alone again."

With a click, Adam opened the lunchbox and held it out to Nigel.

"I made cheese sandwiches. You ate them when we first met and you were bleeding then too. Maybe they’ll make you feel better again."

He loved this boy, Nigel realized with startling clarity. He loved him with everything he had, unconditionally, endlessly and Nigel laughed. Laughed until his throat hurt and his eyes watered, a feeling of such contentment swelling in his chest and rushing through his veins, his body felt too small to contain it. He suddenly knew where he had only suspected before.

Nigel grabbed Adam by his neck and brought his tireless ramblings to a sudden halt as he pulled him close. He kissed him, whispering words of adoration, praise and devotion in between each press of his lips. He kissed him until Adam's mouth was shining wet. He kissed his cheeks, his closed eyes, the soft curve of his chin.

"Darling, we should have been a disaster," he mumbled in between two kisses and laughed because it was true. Yet here they were and, to Nigel's surprise, undoubtedly, magnificently alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're done. Way too late, but all that counts is that it's finished, right?
> 
> A big fat thank you to everyone who commented, gave kudos and offered encouragement on twitter because I would whine like a little baby over this fic all the damn time.
> 
> I love you all.


End file.
